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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432631">Five times Andy avoids eye contact with Hermione, and one time she doesn’t</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToujoursNoir/pseuds/ToujoursNoir'>ToujoursNoir</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Left) For Ded, F/F, I know nothing, Post-War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:09:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToujoursNoir/pseuds/ToujoursNoir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In her darkest moments, she thinks Bella got the better deal, despite everything her eldest sister had done. That she hadn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Andromeda Black Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five times Andy avoids eye contact with Hermione, and one time she doesn’t</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Pen. May you keep encouraging writers to write. </p><p>And may you continue to recruit for Andromione. XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>One </strong>
</p><p>Everyone’s too polite to say anything about it. No matter how mismatched or ridiculous it looks, they merely smile and give her a nod. To tell her they understand; that they share her grief and need to remember Ted, Nymphadora, and – sometimes – Remus. The only exception is Molly, who sighs and shakes her head on particularly <em>radical</em> days. But she too relents when little Teddy claps and laughs in amusement, changing his hair to suit hers.</p><p> </p><p>“What we wouldn’t do for our wee ones, hmm?” The Weasley matriarch says, eyeing Ginevra’s growing tummy. As if she too knows why.</p><p> </p><p>They understand nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Not even Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Close as they are to Hermione, they haven’t a clue how their best friend relives the trauma every night. The whimpers. The cries. The screams.</p><p> </p><p>She started the spell one night, right after mastering it without a wand. The speed of which it worked on Hermione had surprised them both. In fact, the more outrageous her hairstyle, the faster her lover calmed down. During the day, with courage borrowed from the bright sun, Hermione can afford to laugh about it, saying she doesn’t need to keep it <em>all day, Andy</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Hermione still thinks she tried it out of desperation that night. She looks away whenever her lover lauds her quick thinking when under pressure.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione, too, doesn’t know.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Two </strong>
</p><p>“What happened? You’re not usually this distracted,” Hermione chides softly, fussing over the site.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” she replies in a tone that conveys that she’s just as confounded. She justifies her lie by thinking it wasn’t as if she actively sought it out. Healers and herbologists – even those as skilled as she – have accidents when harvesting ingredients all the time.</p><p> </p><p>Wasn’t her fault the plant was particularly tenacious.</p><p> </p><p>“Andy, these are second degree burns,” Hermione’s staring at the notes left by another healer.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t often win arguments. Could never be as strategic as Bellatrix, or as cunning as Narcissa. Neither was she as witty as Ted, or as stubborn as Nymphadora. Merlin only knows how she summoned all the traits she never thought she had during her consultation. All it matters is that she pulled it off, especially since the healer was her protégé.</p><p> </p><p>Only maybe she had taught them a little too well.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Fine, I’ll leave it out of your record – but one more accident like this and I’ll drag you to the mind healer myself,” they warned.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Darling, it’s fine; I’m fine,” she murmurs, pulling Hermione to her. “Pomfrey is working on the salve; I just have to keep it bandaged until it’s available.”</p><p> </p><p>“An—Andy, you’re injured,” Hermione protests half-heartedly as the kisses start veering elsewhere.</p><p> </p><p>“Precisely why I’m in need of some tender loving care, and speaking of needs, my left hand requires training,” she grins at Hermione’s blush, “<em>lots of it</em>, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if you promise me that you are really okay,” Hermione presses on with a stare, making a last-ditch attempt.</p><p> </p><p>She recaptures Hermione’s lips instead.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Three</strong>
</p><p>“You can’t do that!” Harry barked, causing Teddy to cuddle up to her more tightly.</p><p> </p><p>And with that, what should have been a carefree Sunday lunch at the Weasleys’ changes into a meeting. Elaborate dishes on the dining table are replaced by parchment and scrolls; Celestina Warbeck’s crooning drowned out by the hooting of owls; a previously jovial mood turns grim.</p><p> </p><p>“This – this is erasure,” George says, the vehemence in his voice uncovers whatever lies he’s told his mother to placate her after the war.</p><p> </p><p>Her grandson, unsettled by the change in the atmosphere, looks around for another familiar figure: “Hermy!”</p><p> </p><p><em>Hermy</em> is on her second roll of parchment, and – judging by her furious pace of scribbling – has no intention of stopping soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Hang on, Teddy,” Hermione calls out, “I’m just about to finish this letter – surely Professor McGonagall has heard about this.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll make this right, we will,” Molly promises her, reaching for Teddy. “We won’t let them get away with this. Everyone should hear about the war, and the role of our dear old <em>Ministry of Magic</em> in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Here, Andy, I’ll help you with yours,” Ginny offers, indicating to her bandaged hand with a quill. “For once Dad’s just as incense as we are, we might as well make full use of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m running away with Ted.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m leaving this family.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I just had a baby girl – you’re aunties now.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her time agonising over writing these words has nothing on how slowly it runs now.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Andy dear,” Molly reassures her, “tell them about your torture brought about by those inept – let it out, love. Just let it out.”</p><p> </p><p>And still she says nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Andy? You are against the Ministry’s attempts to ban this book, right?”</p><p> </p><p>She nearly crumbles at the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her. Without looking at Hermione, she nods and tells Ginny to just pen down what Ginny thinks needs to be written.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Four</strong>
</p><p>“I screwed up, didn’t I?” Hermione whispers, hunched over.</p><p> </p><p>The main clock tells her it’s just past two, and she feels every bit of it in her body.</p><p> </p><p>As Teddy starts to snore, his ‘hand’ on the second clock gradually moves away from ‘In distress’. Satisfied, she trudges across the room and climbs into their bed.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” she assures Hermione, lacking the strength to do more than wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll owl my sister in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” her lover pleads in a whisper. “I know you told me not to do it, but Skeeter kept pressing and pressing –”</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, it’s done. Let’s get some rest, hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>”Aren’t, aren’t you mad at me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Should I be?” She keeps her tone neutral. The last thing she needed tonight was Hermione thinking she was manipulating her by pretending to be obtuse. ‘Reverse psychology’, the muggles call it.</p><p> </p><p>“You should! I was reckless, I didn’t think how my actions would affect you and Teddy and I, I – ”</p><p> </p><p>“Shh,” she says softly, rubbing large circles around her lover’s back to quell the symptoms of a panic attack. She adds a calming charm that she applied on Teddy, warding off any nightmares that may plague them later.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>hurt</em> him, Andy, I might as well have thrown the rock at him myself!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, stop.” Which she thinks her lover should have done when she first warned Hermione not to escalate things with The Daily Prophet. That there were better ways to advocate for her causes. That she should listen.</p><p> </p><p>She takes a deep breath instead. “You didn’t mean for this to happen – that’s what matters. We’ll sort it out – Narcissa will know what to do.”</p><p> </p><p>While morning – and some much needed rest – brought out a brighter perspective, Hermione remains sombre throughout their trip to St. Mungo’s, only sighing in relief when he’s cleared.</p><p> </p><p>“You did what?” Her protégé exclaims and Hermione cringed. It was rather unfortunate that for all the training the young healer received, taking cues from the body language of their mentor wasn’t one of them.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe her eyes were too tired for her glare to be effective.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re still here in one piece? Boy must Andy really love you to keep her temper in check!”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione sits up a little straighter and looks at her quizzically.</p><p> </p><p>She turns to her grandson. “Come on, Teddy! You’ve been so good, shall we go to the park?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Five</strong>
</p><p>“You <em>don’t</em> want it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave it be, Cissy,” she mutters, careful not to alert others in the house about the issue.</p><p> </p><p>“Andromeda, this is absolutely inane,” Narcissa responds, perfectly manicured fingers moving to temples. “You have the sole right to reclaim the Black name.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have been a Tonks for more than 20 years.” The mug of tea hits the table with more force than usual. “And if I recall correctly, the Black <em>family</em> burned me off the tapestry.”</p><p> </p><p>“And now you can restore yourself!”</p><p> </p><p>“So the portraits magnanimously decided the black sheep can be one of them again because there isn’t anyone else?” she says wryly. “I’m good with what I have, thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, we haven’t the time to deal with grievances that probably go back a few centuries,” Narcissa sighs. “Since Bella…well, the estates are left unclaimed and the Ministry is proposing that they be used for reparations.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then let them! It’s what I would have done.”</p><p> </p><p>“Meda, <em>you</em> are one of the vic – ” Narcissa stops at the look on her face, “one on the list. Edward…he won’t want for anything his entire life.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is plenty enough in the Tonks’ vault, and whatever we lack now, Teddy will have been raised to work for it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m baffled, truly,” Narcissa raises her voice, exasperated. “You don’t wish for him to have options? The means to support whatever he wants to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“He has our love, and that includes our full support of whatever he chooses to do,” she replies fiercely.</p><p> </p><p>“You keep saying <em>we<em>, who are you…” her sister’s voice trails off, eyes widening in realization.</em></em></p><p> </p><p>Silence fills the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“You intend to, as Miss Granger’s world calls it, make an honest woman out of her,” Narcissa says in a quiet tone.</p><p> </p><p>She refills her tea instead of responding.</p><p> </p><p>”Yes, I see it now,” says Narcissa, “the hair, the <em>injury</em>, your demeanour…and here I thought you were simply grieving.”</p><p> </p><p>Once again, she’s relegated to a child by her little sister’s tone and extraordinary capability of seeing through people.</p><p> </p><p>She keeps her eyes lowered and sips continuously, for at the tip of the tongue lies a sulky <em>I don’t have to justify anything to you, Cissy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They stay this way until Hermione bursts through the door, cheeks rosy from being outdoors.</p><p> </p><p>“Andy, we’re going to be – oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione says. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pay no heed to me, Miss Granger,” Narcissa replies smoothly. “I was the one who was intruding.”</p><p> </p><p>“She was just leaving,” she moves their mugs to the sink, throwing a warning glance to her sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed I was. You’ll have to excuse me, Miss Granger. I’m afraid I have to attend to other matters.”</p><p> </p><p>Which were apparently not urgent enough, as she and Hermione watch her <em>dratted</em> sister remove something else from her pocket apart from her gloves.</p><p> </p><p>She closes her eyes as a key falls on to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see you out, Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione catches up to Narcissa at the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Miss Granger, but I do think your attentions should be focused on my sister,” Narcissa responds, loud enough for <em>everyone</em> to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“You see, she hasn’t been feeling herself.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Six </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione leaves her anyway.</p><p> </p><p>She should have seen it coming: the increasingly worried looks, the cautious requests to talk about it, the blatant attempts to bait her, none of which worked.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting wordlessly on their bed – hers, now – she suppose she’s grateful Teddy isn’t here to watch Hermione pack.</p><p> </p><p>She’s soon running out of things to be grateful for.</p><p> </p><p>“Andy? <em>Hey</em>.” She doesn’t know when it happened, but Hermione is holding her face and wiping away her tears.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is it? Tell me please,” her lover implores.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not her.” She didn’t follow the most evil being they had ever known to the point of madness; didn’t pursue some genocidal cause that started two wars.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t deprive new-borns of parents in the cruellest way possible – present but out of reach; torture defenceless witches who were basically children; or killed her own niece.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t even bully anyone at school. Yet here she was: a childless widow who used to think she had it all. Who foolishly thought perhaps hope wasn’t completely out of her grasp after the war.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re not, Andromeda.” But Hermione’s reassurance does nothing to stop her tears.</p><p>“But I’m not…not,” she sobs, “I’m not the Sister Who Lived!”</p><p> </p><p>Merlin <em>curse</em> the person who coined that term; thought they were so clever just because she as often out and about with Harry. It reminded everyone of her resemblance to Bellatrix, and placed her on a pedestal so tall even she couldn’t reach.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored it and instead focused on raising Teddy. It wasn’t until she got closer to Hermione – who took her honorary godmother duties very seriously – that she realised she was barely living. She wanted to tell her to <em>slow down, look left and right and left again instead of just</em> sprinting <em>across the road. </em></p><p> </p><p>Their adventures, good and bad ones, showed her it was she who stood still, waiting for another shoe to drop.</p><p> </p><p>And bit by bit, Hermione unravelled the grief, fear, and paranoia that bound her; bound her so tightly she became nothing more than a 16 year old back at Black Manor. As powerless as Narcissa at the Malfoy Manor, as trapped as the Longbottoms in their bodies, as stuck as Harry since Tom Riddle made him his equal the night he, too, lost everything.</p><p> </p><p>It makes no sense for Hermione – or anyone – to fall for someone so similar to the witch who tortured her. So before that shoe caught up to her, she started to strip off whatever traits she shared with Bella.</p><p> </p><p>Even when her entire <em>soul</em> fought to keep the ones that used to make her proud; that she had something similar with the eldest sister she had adored and looked up to.</p><p> </p><p>That Bella may have been gone long before she went to Azkaban, but if some part of her still lived in Andromeda, maybe the Bella they had lost just went for a walk somewhere in the Galaxy. </p><p> </p><p>She was <em>allowed</em> to grief for her sister, wasn't she?</p><p> </p><p>She killed off whatever remained of Bellatrix Black anyway. She may be bare and raw, but she's free again. </p><p> </p><p>She likes this version of herself, truly. She also has Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>Or so she thought.</p><p> </p><p>In her darkest moments, she thinks Bella got the better deal, despite everything her eldest sister had done. That <em>she</em> hadn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not the Sister Who Lived,” Hermione affirms, holding her more tightly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can change some more. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What are we going to tell Teddy?” she asks instead.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Andy, I really am,” Hermione’s sniffling now, too. “I just can’t – I can’t sit here and bask in your love while you destroy yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you and Bella…”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re <em>not</em> Bellatrix. You didn’t commit those atrocities. It wasn’t your arm that wielded that knife.” The conviction in the young witch’s voice reminds her of Harry’s story on how they started Dumbledore’s Army.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t survive a war to box myself in and avoid people who happen to have a similar look or temperament, the same maiden name, or the same level of passion.”</p><p> </p><p><em>“The strength of Hermione's belief in us…we would have walked up to face Voldemort head on, much less</em> Umbridge.<em>” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Andy, you didn’t survive to be in the clutches of someone long gone,” Hermione continues. “I love you. I would have loved you even if your curls were as dark as hers, or had done things you weren’t proud of.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to know the Andromeda who said fuck this and walked away from what she knew was wrong. The Andy who named her daughter Nymphadora, and who found the will to go on after such a lost.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks up this time, into eyes that never left hers. “You want to…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if you want to. We’ll…start slow this time. Heal. Together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Together.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ends</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://discord.gg/rAKhWJQ">Join the Andromione space in the Bellamione Discord. There’s plenty of room for everyone.</a>
</p><p> </p>
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